A song of Shadow, and Flame
by IronTemplar1
Summary: Fresh from his defeat by the hands of the free peoples of middle earth. Sauron's spirit is cast from the world destined for the void, but Sauron manages to find someone who could bring him back into the world. He arrives in Westeros albeit weakened, and begins getting the lay of the land, and regaining his strength for now, and perhaps bring order to this chaotic world.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

'Names? I have had many names. In the distant past before the waking of the world. I was known as Mairon. The elves of Sindar called me Gorthaur. After the war of wrath when I went among the elves under the guise of an Elven lord of the Vanyar. Annatar the lord of gifts, the elves of Eregion called me when I taught them ringcraft. When I resided in Dol Guldur I was referred to by many as the Necromancer till my identity was truly revealed. The name I was given by the elves, and the name I favor is Sauron, King of Men, and Lord of the Earth.**'**

Rather that is what Sauron thought as he sat in his fortress. His hands holding his _**palantír. **_Through it he saw the two hobbits rushing out of Amon Amarth, or Mt. Doom as many people had named it. He felt the ring as it was destroyed, and all he could do was watch the hobbits. Baggins, and his friend/servant. He should be furious should he not? Yet he could not bring himself to be angry with the hobbits. Instead he just laughed. A low chuckle really, He laughed because it was now he saw his folly.

Still chuckling darkly he spoke "So this is it. My defeat! Done to me by hobbits of all creatures." he stopped chuckling. "I hold no anger for what you have done Master Baggins. I am impressed you managed this. Though I suspect that another far more powerful being certainly helped. I never thought you would be able to do it. I never thought that the son of Isildur would resist the ring, and to come here with his host without it… Well I guess this is the price of my pride. No, my arrogance. It is the cause of my defeat, I know it to be so." He set the _**palantír **_down.

He stood from his seat. His eyes fell upon one of the many mirrors in his fortress. His form was dark. Not at all like his fair form of old, and even though it was physical it, much like his Nazguel was wraithlike. He strode out to the balcony as the Tower. His fortress began to shake. The magia that sustained it beginning to fade as the ring was destroyed. His eyes fell upon the Mountain, and in his dark and gravelly tone he spoke. "Farewell Master Baggins, and Aragorn Heir of Isildur. I will await you at Dagor Dagorath" He waited but a moment more. The destruction of his ring had not killed him, but he knew without the ring their wouldn't be a way for him to return if he was destroyed again.

His tower on the other hand could no longer be sustained without the magia that his ring managed to hold in the world. He felt as the fortress he built himself began to crumble in on itself. Collapsing as strength given to it by the magic that he forged into the very beams, and structure waned. The Structure was collapsing, and Sauron knew he would not get out in time. He went back inside, and sat on his throne. It was a simple thing carved of stone, and sparsely decorated save for carvings worked into the stone. He had no need for extravagant design. Power, and rulership should be simple, and in many ways elegant. That is how order should be.

He sat back in his throne as the room fell around him, and as his throne room collapsed he simply sat in solomon acceptance much as he had when Numinor was destroyed. Though back than he knew he would return. All he could do now was wait for his form. weak as it was to be destroyed, and for him to be expelled to the void beyond the world.

Stones collapsed around him before a not so small portion of his fortress landed directly on his weakened form, crushing it utterly. The destruction of his form exploded forth in a force that further annihilated the already collapsing fortress. As he died his Nazguel were being consumed by the fires of spewed forth from Amon Amarth. Leaving the great armies of Mordor leaderless, and dooming them to defeat by the forces of the free people of middle earth.

Sauron's spirit was cast, heading for the void beyond the world. His eyes gazed on the many Galaxies, and Versus that made up the world. The world is so much grander than people knew. Even though he did not, no could not hate his enemies for what they did. He was not looking forward to seeing his old master again. He doubted that Morgoth would actually punish him for any perceived slights. (As he had made sure there were none) However, Sauron dreaded the one truth that this meant.

That he would never be unbound again. Forever a servant to Morgoth, and to be in service for what? To a traitorous destroyer who sought to end the world. Make no mistake he had great respect for Morgoth, but his methods and goals he simply couldn't agree with.

Sauron continued to watch the galaxies spiraling as he was cast further to the void, by the winds of Manway. Than he saw it, a world seamily unremarkable. It was a world he was not familiar with, but as he turned his gaze he saw something. Someone peering, scrying at him through flames. A woman, someone with a good grasp of sorcery.

He could not dwell on such thoughts for long. This was his chance, and he would not let it pass. He grabbed ahold of her sight bringing it onto him. She accepted his grasp on her sight. Was she looking for him? Why would she not at least resist? Unless… she isn't as powerful as I guessed. He thought pessimistically. His movement slowed and then altogether stopped as he used this sorceress own magic to stop his casting from the world. If she wasn't as powerful as he thought, then chances are that this would only be a brief reprieve before the void.

He focused his gaze on this women. This witch whose soul was tainted red, and he spoke into her mind. "I see you. Who are you?"

**Melisandre.**

Melisandre felt her very being shake at those words. She looked into the seemingly burning eyes. They seemed to gaze into her very soul. When she consulted the flames this morning. She could not have expected this. What is this vision, and why was it speaking to her? She tried to meet its gaze, but she did not want to. Her head and gaze began to lower.

'The night is dark and full of terrors, but the lord of light burns them all away.' She summoned her willpower, and met the gaze of this being of fire. Its will seemed to just wash over her. As if she was a sand castle standing against the sea. It awaited her answer.

"Melo… Melisandre of Assha. Red Priestesses of the Lord of Light." She said with steel in her voice. Though inside she was shaking for she feared this being was far beyond her ability. Though the fact it was a being of fire was of some comfort. 'Perhaps it serves the lord of light. Yes that is possible. Perhaps I am being blessed with an audience.'

Its. No his gaze seemed to focus on her. It spoke it voice echoing in her very being. "Deception. That is not your name, but it is no matter."

'How did it know that she lied. Did. Did he/it know her real name, but she had not used her real name for years… she had not been Mellony for many years. What did he know'. She knew it had to be a servant of the lord of light. It had to be it was of fire, and shadow. "What do you want?" she asked.

She watched as the burning eyes seemed to brighten from the red, and orange to a golden yellow. That reminded her of the sun. He spoke his voice commanding, and yet calming. "The question is not what I want. It is how I can help you?"

'Help me?' He must have been sent by the lord of light. A spirit of old to aid her perhaps. "What must I do for your most generous aid you would render me, O'Great spirit of fire?" She addressed it. The spirit's form came into clearer view through the flames. its form was ethereal, yet fair. His hair golden red. His head crowned by a simple circlet, it was less a mark of nobility and more a piece of simple jewelry. Yet she could not help feel that he was in some way, a king.

"Go to a mountain of fire. The Forge's of the world from both land and metal are spewed from. From there wield your sorcery, and gather the magic there than you may begin with this ritual..."

Melisandre crawled through the secret tunnels that lead to the very heart of Dragonmont. Though to be fair the tunnels were less secret because of them being hidden, and more secret because people couldn't be bothered. Hot steam spewed from the fires of the mountain. From the natural platform she stood. She could see the flames of the mountain. Fires so hot than not even the cold of death could reach. 'This would do' she thought. She than drew the circle as she was instructed, and once it was complete she began working the incantations.

The fire of the mountain began to rage the liquid fire flare. Threatening to reach the platform. As the words of magic flowed from her lips she felt her ruby choker begin to heat up as she cast the spell. As she began to summon this great spirit to this place the natural magic contained in the mountain no doubt aiding in his summoning. As she completed the first verse of the ritual she saw the spiert in its ethereal form begin to take form before her. The mountain roared with fire, and she could hear the sky far about crack with thunder. Another verse finished, and her choker began to burn into her neck. 'I'm so close, I cant stop now.'

She put all her magic that she dared into the spell. Her vision began to swim together as she struggled to finish the final verse. It was as if the world itself did not want her to bring in this great spirit. Yet still she continued. Her choker was burning her now, and she could no longer make out her own words. She tasted ash in her mouth, and with one final effort. She finished the spell. The last word of the incantation leaving her lips, her choker began to cool, and the glow of the ruby faded. The fire of the mountain had calmed. She looked up to gaze at the spirit she had summoned the agent of Lord of Light.

She saw an incredibly fair form. He was tall of stature. His form bearing muscles that complimented his lean figure. His skin fair, and his hair a golden red. His eyes seemed of fire for a moment before they cooled to a yellowish gold color. He gave her a bright smile that seemed to fill her with joy from its very witness. His very presence seemed to wash over her for a moment. Before her vision began to fade and her body, overwhelmed by it all fell unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

_**The writer sits at his desk. "alright time to finish up chapter 3 now that I have some free time." Sauron leans back in his chair and looks over at the young writter. "Out of curiusity did you remmber to post chapter 2 to the site?" The young writter stopped. "...shit."**_

_**anyway sorry for the delay lots of shit happened, and I was also doing some writing for some personal projects. Hopefully updates will come a little more consistantly, or at least faster now that my life is finnally under some state of reletivly controlled chaos.**_

_**Sauron: "We do hope you enjoy the story. Have a plesent day, I command it."**_

**Chapter 2**

**Sauron.**

Sauron with a deep breath he took in his surroundings. His gaze briefly fell on the sorceress he convinced to summon him. He could not help, but be amazed at his fortune. When he told her of the ritual to summon him, he had doubted that it would be successful. At best by his reckoning he thought he would be summoned in his wraith-like form he held before. This however was beyond his most optimistic of expectations. Not only had he been given a capable physical form, but it was his fair form as well. Something that had been lost to him since the fall of Numenor, and his machinations theirin.

His mind turned to his other abilities. He tried to gather the _magia _to shapeshift, and found himself swiftly disappointed. He had regained his physical form, but he was still significantly weaker than he had been in the past. He grabbed at one of the embers in the air, and used sorcery to bring it to a small flame he let it dance in the palm of his hand, before sending the small bolt of flame across the chasm.

He could still command his sorcery, and to a limited degree magia. This resulting weakness was partially a result of his diminished power. He found it Interesting how this world could produce sorcerers of her caliber, and at the same time possess little in the way of magia. Perhaps in this world sorcery rose to prominence when magia began to wane.

That would make some sense. That being said even the magic of sorcery was muted. Requiring greater efforts to summon forth even basic abilities. He doubted he would be able to do even lesser acts of sorcery, at least as of this moment. Time would tell if magia, and sorcery were waxing, or waning in this world. He had no intention of leaving things to chance however. There still was magia, although it was in small amounts, and sorcery would be a bit easier though he doubted he would be able to do anything along the lines of calling meteors from the heavens, or other such magics.

Despite this Sauron found himself rather optimistic. He wouldn't have great access to his magical abilities, but it hardly mattered. He still had his charisma, his intellect, and most importantly a physical form. His fair form… He would have to test its capabilities in combat. It was not intended for war, but for diplomacy and infiltration. He would need to gather power. Magical, physical, and influential; He would need all in future.

Sauron walked over to the frail, and unconscious form of the sorceress. She called herself Melisandre, but he knew her true name Mellony. A brief interest flicked as to why she held this name to be hers over the name she goes by. However that was unimportant right now.

He hoisted her over his shoulder. Even in this form he more then had the strength to carry her feminine form. She would not be unconscious for too long, but he did not want to wait. He had to see what this world held for him.

**Later that day**

Sauron walked down the steps of the weathered Inn, the only "major" settlement on this island. It did not truly have a name though many in the town called it Dragonsport, or simply Port town. It would be a good place to gather some information. As it was, he had gone about the town gathering information, and conversing with the townsfolk. He Deciphered their language like it was child's play, and for Sauron it was. All Language could ultimately be traced back to one origin at one point. An origin in which he himself knew well. He had decipered a great deal of languages through knowledge he gained from Melisandre. However talking with the people allowed him to pick up on things that might be missed. Accents for instance could change from town to town, or country to country depending on how connected they were.

When speaking to them he decided to make himself a foreigner, as that is what he was. However he accented his speech to sound as though he was simply from another part of the Seven Kingdoms. Which was another thing he had learned about since his arrival. Through conversation he determined that they were in an empire known as the 7 kingdoms. Which was comprised of 9 regions though most of the people here could not, nor be expected to be able to name all of them. He also learned that they worshiped gods known as the 7. Which he found somewhat convenient since their empire had 7 kingdoms, but then again that might be why even though there were nine regions they only called it the Seven kingdoms.

The current king was called Robert Baratheon. Who deposed the previous king Aerys Targaryen the 2nd, or the mad king as many of the people referred to him as. In a war called Robert's Rebellion, Which while it did indeed roll off the tongue was an inaccurate name given that the definition of a rebellion is an armed resistance that ultimately fails. He didn't fail though, he succeeded, and because his family had a claim albeit a somewhat old one on the throne. His succession war was successful. It was admittedly shakier than most people would have liked; many of the people cited the Greyjoy rebellion (which is correctly named somewhat to his frustration) as an indicator of this. Sauron however saw it for what it was. A tragic miscalculation on the part of Baleon Greyjoy, and the confirmation of Robert Baratheon's right to rule. Robert Baratheon proved himself able to keep order in his empire. The war itself was over in less than a year. With a decisive victory for the King Robert Baratheon.

This man was of interest to Sauron, if even a quarter of what he had heard was true. The man must be quite competent, and would be useful in future endeavors. He had heard some other less than fantastic news that the king had since softened as of late. However such things could be corrected.

As he reached the ground floor of the Inn the innkeeper who was a rather comley man saw him and spoke.

"Hello Mr. Annatar, I hope the young miss is sleeping well"

Sauron moved over to the counter, and did a slight bow. "She is resting well master Tavernor, once again I must thank you for your kindness"

"Bah," He dismissed "I understand what it is like for a merchant to fall on hard times. I couldn't very well let you and your lady suffer further for some misfortune." he replied

Sauron raised his head. "Nonetheless, You did not have to show kindness. I shall go out so I may repay you as such"

Mr Tavernor nodded at that. "Well it would be much appreciated Mr. Annatar. Have a pleasant day."

With that Sauron left the Inn, and its keeper to walk the streets of the settlement. In truth he really did intend to repay the Innkeeper. He understood that the kindness of strangers should never be relied upon, and when it is shown it should be repaid in full, if not more. To do otherwise would be terribly misguided. It would be dishonorable, and while Sauron was not above trickery especially in warfare. He understood the importance of honor. For without honor no one could trust the word, or even the deeds of another. Without honor there could be no trust, no order. People would not abide by their oaths, and the only thing that could enforce such a self destructive existence would be force. This could lead only to chaos, and if there was one thing Sauron truly despised it was chaos; especially chaos for its own sake.

After a short walk Sauron heard a familiar sound. The clanging of a hammer against steel. It brought back memories for him. Of the time he was called Marion, and served Aulë the Master of all crafts, and Lord of matter. He remembered the time fondly. After all it was Aulë who taught him what he knew about crafting. Something that was once again going to prove a valuable skill.

"Excuse me goodman, can I have but a moment of your time?" he asked.

The Smith glanced up from his work at the man standing before him. The man was older, but still youthful with a full black beard, and muscled physique. "Aye that you can, but I will tell you right now I am not making no damned golden daggers, or fancy silver swords."

He grinned slightly. "I wouldn't dream of it unless it was purely ornamental. Gold is far too soft, and silver doesn't hold an edge well."

The Smith paused at this. "Well it seams your lordship has at least a bit of sense when it comes to his metals beyond the usual throw gold dragon's at a problem. So what can I do for your lordship?"

Sauron put up his hand. "My goodman while I appreciate the respect. I am afraid I am no lord, not in these lands anyway. Just a humble artisan and merchant"

"Pff"The blacksmith scoffed. "Well you could have fooled me you have the look and bearing of lord, and not bad manners to match it. The names Sandor, my goodman"

"My name is Annatar, and I am hoping you might be able to help me."

"Well my door is open. What can I do for you."

"Yes well you see I have fallen on hard times as of recent..."

Sandor cut him off "My condolences, but I hope your not expecting charity, or a lone for that matter"

"I expect nothing of the sort my goodman. You see I am in need of some coin, and a few other things. I have come to ask if I might be able to work at your forge. In return all I ask is that you pay me a fair wage for my work, and allow me to work on some more personal items on the side. Of course I would pay for the materials I would use for those."

Sandor went to say something, and abruptly stopped to prevent himself from saying something stupid. After some deliberation, and a newly finished Saex knife he spoke. "You claim to have some skill with the forge. I wouldn't have guessed it given your… frame" he said gesturing to Saurons fair form.

"I am stronger than I look I assure you, and these cloths as fine as they are do little to show of my strength, but we both know it takes more than strength to work a forge"

Sandor noded and held out the seax he forged "forge one of these, match the quality, or better, and I will give you a shot"

Sauron smiled, and got to work. It would be good to work with familiar tools. He decided to make a good Seax blade. Yes, this was something that Sauron wanted to do again. To make forge something. To feel the heat of the forge, feel the hammer strike heated metal, and hear the sounds of fire, and metal.

The Smith, Sandor. Wanted a Seax blade. He would not be dissapointed.


End file.
